clear to me that the horse could actually die!”
“Help!…Help me!”
Rocks crashed down from the roof of a dark tunnel. Dust rose. Men choked and cried out. One picked himself up from the ground and staggered away, arm raised to shield his stooped head from the falling debris.
“I can’t get out! I’m trapped! Somebody, help me!”
Voices wailed in the thick blackness. Wild eyes, anguished faces under a landslide of heavy rocks.
Kirstie beat her fists in the air. Her legs thrashed inside a confined space. “Help!” she cried, sitting bolt upright.
“Wake up!” Lisa was shaking her. “You’re having a nightmare. Kirstie, wake up!”
She opened her eyes, made out the dome of the tent in the gray light before dawn. Her legs were trapped inside the twisted sleeping bag, but there were no rocks, no miners suffocating in a dusty tomb. She took a deep breath and, for a few seconds, hung her head forward and buried her face between her hands.
“Are you OK?” Lisa waited until she looked up again.
Kirstie nodded. “Sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t. I was already awake, looking out for mountain lions … bears … ghosts …” She gave her friend a wry grin. “Didn’t spot any, though. But wait till I see your brother!”
Shaking off the nightmare and reaching out to unzip the tent for fresh air, Kirstie spied Lucky and Cadillac standing quietly under the nearby trees. Both horses looked pale and unreal in the morning mist as they stretched their tethers to turn their heads at the sound of the zip.
She crawled out on all fours, feeling the cold dew on the grass. Lifting her hands to her hot face, she cooled herself down.
“You’re sure you’re OK?” Lisa followed her out, already dressed in shirt and trousers.
“Yep. Glad to be awake,” Kirstie confessed. Sleeping out was usually more fun than this, with a saddlebag full of potato chips and Hershey bars for breakfast, and sun breaking through the trees. Today there was no sun; just more clouds and the wet mist clinging to the ridge. From somewhere deep in the canyon, she recognized the sound of a bobcat’s yowl.
Cadillac skittered sideways at the noise. He knocked into Lucky, who tossed his head and pulled at his tether.
With her stomach still churning from the nightmare, Kirstie stood up. Down below, lost in the mist, the bobcat went on making his high-pitched racket. “I wonder what got into him?”
“And the horses.” Lisa glanced nervously toward Dead Man’s Canyon, then over at Lucky and Cadillac. “You know something? I’m not the only one who doesn’t like this place.”
“I agree. What do you say we saddle up and get out of here fast?” Kirstie suggested, eager in any case to begin the search for the black stallion.
She was heading toward Lucky when a gray shape came hurtling out of the canyon and along the ridge. About a yard long from head to the tip of its stubby tail, with a mottled coat, there was no mistaking the sturdy bobcat. He flew toward Kirstie, saw her, and veered off for the trees where the horses were tied up.
It all happened in seconds; the bobcat flashing by, Cadillac smelling and hearing him before he saw him, the wrench at the halter rope, the brittle branch snapping.
“Watch out!” Lisa yelled a warning, too late.
The branch that tethered the two horses had broken. Cadillac reared, dragging Lucky off-balance. The branch cracked and splintered, fell apart, leaving the startled horses free to gallop.
Kirstie stood by, helpless, as the bobcat swerved, then darted between Lucky and Cadillac. Their flailing hooves crashed down inches from where he ran. Then he was clear, darting through the trees out of sight.
“Easy!” Kirstie cried.
Cadillac reared again. A fragment of branch swung from the end of his rope. It crashed against Lucky and sent the palomino prancing toward the edge of the canyon. From higher up the hill, the bobcat gave out his eerie yowl.
Twisting and rearing, sliding and kicking
“Help!…Help me!”
Rocks crashed down from the roof of a dark tunnel. Dust rose. Men choked and cried out. One picked himself up from the ground and staggered away, arm raised to shield his stooped head from the falling debris.
“I can’t get out! I’m trapped! Somebody, help me!”
Voices wailed in the thick blackness. Wild eyes, anguished faces under a landslide of heavy rocks.
Kirstie beat her fists in the air. Her legs thrashed inside a confined space. “Help!” she cried, sitting bolt upright.
“Wake up!” Lisa was shaking her. “You’re having a nightmare. Kirstie, wake up!”
She opened her eyes, made out the dome of the tent in the gray light before dawn. Her legs were trapped inside the twisted sleeping bag, but there were no rocks, no miners suffocating in a dusty tomb. She took a deep breath and, for a few seconds, hung her head forward and buried her face between her hands.
“Are you OK?” Lisa waited until she looked up again.
Kirstie nodded. “Sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t. I was already awake, looking out for mountain lions … bears … ghosts …” She gave her friend a wry grin. “Didn’t spot any, though. But wait till I see your brother!”
Shaking off the nightmare and reaching out to unzip the tent for fresh air, Kirstie spied Lucky and Cadillac standing quietly under the nearby trees. Both horses looked pale and unreal in the morning mist as they stretched their tethers to turn their heads at the sound of the zip.
She crawled out on all fours, feeling the cold dew on the grass. Lifting her hands to her hot face, she cooled herself down.
“You’re sure you’re OK?” Lisa followed her out, already dressed in shirt and trousers.
“Yep. Glad to be awake,” Kirstie confessed. Sleeping out was usually more fun than this, with a saddlebag full of potato chips and Hershey bars for breakfast, and sun breaking through the trees. Today there was no sun; just more clouds and the wet mist clinging to the ridge. From somewhere deep in the canyon, she recognized the sound of a bobcat’s yowl.
Cadillac skittered sideways at the noise. He knocked into Lucky, who tossed his head and pulled at his tether.
With her stomach still churning from the nightmare, Kirstie stood up. Down below, lost in the mist, the bobcat went on making his high-pitched racket. “I wonder what got into him?”
“And the horses.” Lisa glanced nervously toward Dead Man’s Canyon, then over at Lucky and Cadillac. “You know something? I’m not the only one who doesn’t like this place.”
“I agree. What do you say we saddle up and get out of here fast?” Kirstie suggested, eager in any case to begin the search for the black stallion.
She was heading toward Lucky when a gray shape came hurtling out of the canyon and along the ridge. About a yard long from head to the tip of its stubby tail, with a mottled coat, there was no mistaking the sturdy bobcat. He flew toward Kirstie, saw her, and veered off for the trees where the horses were tied up.
It all happened in seconds; the bobcat flashing by, Cadillac smelling and hearing him before he saw him, the wrench at the halter rope, the brittle branch snapping.
“Watch out!” Lisa yelled a warning, too late.
The branch that tethered the two horses had broken. Cadillac reared, dragging Lucky off-balance. The branch cracked and splintered, fell apart, leaving the startled horses free to gallop.
Kirstie stood by, helpless, as the bobcat swerved, then darted between Lucky and Cadillac. Their flailing hooves crashed down inches from where he ran. Then he was clear, darting through the trees out of sight.
“Easy!” Kirstie cried.
Cadillac reared again. A fragment of branch swung from the end of his rope. It crashed against Lucky and sent the palomino prancing toward the edge of the canyon. From higher up the hill, the bobcat gave out his eerie yowl.
Twisting and rearing, sliding and kicking
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